


Window

by emmis_slemmis



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: josh is suuuuper vaguely hinted at, kind of 2han but not really?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-29
Updated: 2017-05-29
Packaged: 2018-11-06 13:34:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,410
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11037225
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emmis_slemmis/pseuds/emmis_slemmis
Summary: A boy climbs in Hansol's window.





	Window

**Author's Note:**

> Haha, just something I needed to get out of my system :P
> 
> Also, 2han is like, super underrated.

The first time Jeonghan visits him, Hansol is eight. He has just moved to Korea, and spends most of his nights cowering under the covers, too scared to look at the window his mom forgot to close when she was tucking him in.

In some aspects, Hongdae is not so different to New York; same busy city life, same ocean of people, same starless sky. One would think Hansol would feel at home. No. Even though it has its similarities, there are more than enough strangeties for any eight year old to be scared of. The smells are weird, the lights are strange and cartoonish and the language, although not unfamiliar to him, is daunting when everywhere.

And if all this isn’t bad enough already, just imagine little Hansol, shaking and hidden under a slightly too thin blanket, when he hears his window opening. More than the wind should be able to open it. Imagine when he hears footsteps on his heated wooden floor, too heavy to be his little sister’s. Imagine tears threatening to slip out the corners of his eyes when he hears a voice, quiet but definitely audible, curse.

He does his best to stay quiet and stay hidden, as he has been taught to do in such situations, but it isn’t easy when you’re barely turned eight and the only one in his house awake, beside the intruder.

He lets out a sob. It’s loud, and he knows that both he and the intruder are holding their breaths. The same footsteps grow in volume as they near his bed, and as the blanket lifts only the slightest bit from the bed and he starts to see a face, he opens his mouth to scream. The other thing he has been taught.

The intruder, however, slams a hand over his mouth before he can get a sound out. He lifts his eyes to the intruder’s face and sees that they are pressing a finger to their own lips in a gesture telling him to stay quiet.

“Calm down,” the stranger says, even though his own voice is shaking. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

Hansol is still so scared, but even as a tear runs down his cheek, he nods. The intruder removes their hand from his mouth.

“Don’t be scared.”

Hansol is confused for a second, because while the intruder is definitely a boy, boys in New York don’t look like that. Like that, with small faces, pink lips and pretty, long hair. And it’s new, and it’s scary, but it may be the first thing in Korea that he actually likes.

“I’m Jeonghan. Can I stay the night?”

 

 

The next morning, Jeonghan is gone. When Hansol tells his parents about it, they complement him on his imagination. He doesn’t understand.

 

 

 

 

Hansol doesn’t see Jeonghan again for years, and eventually, he forgets about him.

One particularly cold February, though, one week before he turns twelve, he’s lying in bed. He’s trying to sleep, he has school tomorrow after all, but really, what eleven year old can sleep with birthday nerves?

He’s wondering why he’s so cold, and stands up when he sees the window open. He crosses the floor, still heated enough for his feet not to freeze. But when he reaches halfway to his window, he stops. There’s a hand on his window sill. There’s a face peeking into his room. There’s a boy in his room.

“Don’t scream,” Jeonghan pleads, and Hansol doesn’t think he can. He’s frozen. After four years, there is Jeonghan. Back, in his room.

“Can I stay the night?”

Hansol is stunned. He’s hardly able to process what Jeonghan has asked him. He nods anyway.

He gives Jeonghan one of the pillows from his bed, before climbing into it himself. Jeonghan settles on his floor, right underneath the window. It’s quiet, in a weird way, because Hansol is suddenly even more awake than he was before, eyes wide open. He wants to ask Jeonghan a million questions; what are you doing? Why are you here? Where are you from? Are you _real_?

 

 

 

Jeonghan comes to visit him a lot after that. From he’s twelve until he’s fifteen, Jeonghan will climb through his window and ask to stay the night.

At first, it’s almost unreal. It’s something he doesn’t dare tell anyone; what would he say? A strange man creeps into my room at night? It wouldn’t bring any good.

Sometimes, there will be months between Jeonghan’s visits. Sometimes only days.

Three months after Jeonghan reappeared, Hansol finds out he’s eight years older than him. Two weeks after that, Jeonghan appears with a black eye. He tells Hansol not to worry about him.

The summer when Hansol is fourteen, Jeonghan has a piercing in his lip and fiery red hair. Hansol is extremely uncomfortable that night, and tries his best to be subtle and not wake Jeonghan as he strokes himself under the covers. He blames it on the hormones.

When Hansol is fifteen, he asks Jeonghan why he comes to his room. He asks where he is when he’s not there. He asks if he can come with.

That night, he sees Jeonghan for the last time in two years. His hair is beach blonde, his eyes are watery and the piercing in his lip gleams from the light outside.

 

 

 

As opposed to the last time it happened, this time, Hansol thinks a lot about Jeonghan the two years he doesn’t see him. He thinks about all he knows about Jeonghan; how he was great at listening to Hansol’s problems, how he would never sleep on his back, how he would always be gone before Hansol would wake up, no matter how early. He thinks about the things he doesn’t know about Jeonghan; where he’s from, what he does every day, what he’s hiding in Hansol’s room from.

When Hansol is sixteen, he realizes that he wants to see Jeonghan naked. He wants to hug him. Kiss him. Dance with him. More than he does with the cute guy he met when he went back to America for the summer.

He makes sure never to close his window.

 

 

 

 

“You took out your piercing.”

It’s the first thing Hansol comments on when Jeonghan finally shows up in the opening of his window after two years. Hansol doesn’t know if he’s relieved or disappointed; he’s glad to find out that nothing has happened to Jeonghan, as he seems fine even after seemingly disappearing for so long; disappointed because he will admit that he has had certain dreams involving said lip piercing.

Jeonghan’s hair has changed, as well. Last time Hansol saw him it was golden blonde and rested on his shoulders. Now it’s raven black and curving around his jaw, perfectly framing his beautifully sculpted cheekbones and deep chocolate eyes. It stays perfectly still as he chuckles deeply, making it look like he spent hours spraying it with hairspray.

“Yeah.”

  
Jeonghan sucks on his bottom lip after answering, as if confirming it to himself, and Hansol wants to kiss him when the pink bottom lip pops out again, slightly swollen. But he doesn’t.

Jeonghan’s eyes light up suddenly, as if he’s just remembering something. He digs around in his bag before pulling out a small box, wrapped in shiny green and with a see through purple bow on top. “For you birthday,” he says with a confident grin as he gives the gift to Hansol.

Hansol looks at the clock on his bedside table and feels heat running to his face. Twelve minutes over midnight. February eighteenth. Jeonghan remembered his birthday.

“Thanks.”

 

 

That night, at four fifteen, Hansol wakes up. Jeonghan is stood at his window, bag in hand, ready to jump. Hansol always wondered how Jeonghan leaves, and this doesn’t really clear it up. It’s a seven-story drop.

“Jeonghan?”

Jeonghan whips his head around, so sharply Hansol is scared he got himself a whiplash. His neck seems fine, but his eyes are bigger than he has ever seen them. They follow him as he crosses the room, all the way to stand beside Jeonghan by the window. He looks down at the sidewalk and to both sides. He’s no smarter.

“Can I come with?”

Jeonghan is still staring at him, only now with confusion, doubt and desperation in his eyes.

“How old are you again?”

“Seventeen.”

 

Jeonghan chews on his lip.

 

He grabs Hansol’s hand.

 

“Good enough.”

 

And then they leave.


End file.
